


touchstone

by andromedagreyjoy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Future Fic, imagination for 3x16
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-17
Updated: 2016-03-17
Packaged: 2018-05-27 04:44:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6270118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andromedagreyjoy/pseuds/andromedagreyjoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the end, it was the feeling of Bellamy's hand in hers that brings her back.</p>
<p>Flash fic, an imagining of 3x16.</p>
            </blockquote>





	touchstone

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for bellarkefanfiction's February Flash Fiction contest.

In the end, it was the feeling of Bellamy’s hand in hers that brings her back.

Being in the City of Light was like walking through the Garden of Eden; a perfect  _ surreal _ reality, the elimination of all pain, the absence of struggle, the opportunity for peace. Days had passed since she last saw Bellamy, the kind of days that stretched and pulled and felt like eternity in this new virtual world. With every passing moment, the City of Light felt more solid, and her knowledge of reality faded and faded, slipping further and further out of reach. 

Lexa is there with her and she’s somehow real and not real, a variety of the woman Clarke knew but not quite right, like someone made a copy that missed just a few details, and tried to improve upon others, but the image falls flat. The image is too perfect, too ideal, yet she wants to believe it. Here there are no life or death choices, no more pain, no more  _ Wanheda _ … gone are the memories of Bellamy’s tears as he reminded her that she left him, gone are the memories of Abby’s disappointment, of Octavia’s judgement, of Lexa’s manipulation, of Raven’s pain, of the hundreds of bodies around the dropship, around TonDC, around Mount Weather, around Arkadia. Yet, gone are the memories of Bellamy’s arms, of Raven’s smile, of Abby’s concern, of Monty’s comfort, of the promise of something  _ more _ that first appeared on a Unity Day long ago… gone is the memory of having someone so solidly by her side, so firm in his support, so steady in hand. By eliminating the negatives, the City of Light eliminated the positives, and Clarke could no longer remember the feel of Bellamy’s hand wrapped around hers, of what it was like to look into those eyes and feel real love, real trust, real belief. Not even the ALIE could recreate or perfect upon that.

Her memories of reality fade and fade, and then she feels it.

Her physical form lies prone in Arkadia, fretted over by her mother and her friends, and while before he was gone he is now there. The moment his warm familiar hand takes hers, pressing her knuckles to his lips, then his lips to her forehead, everything comes back.

This world is  _ wrong _ .

It’s missing one key element, the one thing that even ALIE cannot recreate.

What use is perfection and utopia, without the ones she loves? What use is fiction, when it blurs and greys out and fades the best pieces of reality? Clarke feels his hand, breaking through the haze, feels herself awaken, feels Clarke Griffin emerge again. With this touchstone,  _ her _ touchstone, she steadies, and she  _ decides _ . There is a place where she belongs, a place where she fits, and he’s right there, steady and loyal, holding her hand as his own touchstone.

In the end, it was the feeling of Bellamy’s hand in hers that brings her back.

**Author's Note:**

> my first attempt at fic... the prompt was 'hands' and i just couldn't resist.


End file.
